


Bloodless & Fullmetal

by TheBrokenBinding



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: Other, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 12:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12298845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrokenBinding/pseuds/TheBrokenBinding
Summary: Kvothe and the Elric brothers meet in the Waystone. Chaos ensues.





	Bloodless & Fullmetal

          A weathered-looking young man wearing an apron stood silently behind a shining, polished bar as the sun set sideways into the windows. Golden and gentle, the light slid idly down the legs of chairs spread neatly around tables in the dining area of the Waystone Inn. It flooded his chest from his abdomen up onto the tips of the short sleeves on his simple tunic, leaving his upper half largely cloaked in shadow. Still, his muddy-green eyes were visible, staring hard forward. Whatever they found, they were stuck in it like a sword in a stone. The quiet that hung around this man was hungry to be broken. But it had been starving for years, and a few hours this evening would do nothing to change that.  
          Suddenly, the crunching of footsteps outside stabbed into the young man’s thoughts. He snapped back to himself, but his personal silence, the one that covered him and him alone, held. A few ideas flashed through his mind before a quick, strong hand swung open the door to his inn. I am Kvothe. I am Kote. This is my inn.  
         Old Cob stomped into the room with his usual ease, and swiftly found a chair to settle into. The room found a warmth it lacked before, and a grin came to Kvothe’s face as natural as trees swaying in the wind. The usual crowd flowed into the dining room as the young innkeeper swept around the rooms, heating up stew and pouring drinks in return for the clink of heavy coins on the polished wood. The goings-on felt comfortable and warm.

 

         Night had slowly fallen, and everyone was caught up with their meals and talking comfortably. Kvothe turned his head while pouring Aaron a short beer. His ears twitched at the sound of boots outside on the steps. He glanced around the room, noting that all the typical customers were here. He knew them all by name. In a town small as this, even an unremarkable stranger is news enough to hold a conversation. The door opened casually, and Kvothe saw two young men just a tad shorter than himself, both with golden hair, one cut in a casual short style, and the other held in a woven ponytail. They closed the door and walked confidently into the room, eyeing the crowd. He finished up with the table he was serving and walked toward them in what he hoped was a welcoming way. The taller of the two (brothers?) looked around and noticed his approach. In a voice that carried maturity without being terribly low, he introduced himself.  
         “Hello! I’m Alphonse, and this is my brother Edward. Is this your Inn? We were hoping to rent rooms.” The other man named Edward smiled and extended his hand to shake. Kvothe took it.  
         “Of course, newcomers are always welcome. You can call me Kote.” He led them toward them to the bar and gestured for them to sit. Alphonse bought a wine had never heard of before and Edward received an apple cider, as they paid for two single rooms.  
          “Where do you boys hail from, and what brings you to Newarre?” Kvothe had the habit of referring to younger men as boys, although he was still rather young himself. It had something to do with how old he felt. As his eyes flicked here and there, he noticed the wedding ring on Edward’s finger and made a mental note not to use the word again with them.  
         “We live in Resembool. We’re traveling this way to learn more about the world, I suppose you could say.” Kvothe’s eyebrow raised at the unfamiliar name. Alphonse took notice and supplied, “we’re a long way from home.” Desiring more, but not wanting to make his guests uncomfortable, the man who called himself Kote decided he could ask personal questions of paying customers later. He sensed something odd about the pair, but nothing sinister. His gut feelings had paid off in the past and he wouldn’t disrespect them by doubting now.  
         “I trust you’ve travelled safely? The roads aren’t very favorable these days, especially in wintertime.” Edward gave a smug smile.  
         “We’re used to protecting ourselves, don’t worry.” There was a heavy clunk against the bar. Kvothe paused. Ed looked embarrassed.  
         “Was that you?”  
         “Yeah uh, I’ll show you.” He slipped off the stool and walked around the corner of the bar. Only now did Kvothe notice that his left leg made a lower-pitched thump on the wooden floor than his right. The boots were identical, but Edward tugged up his left pant leg to reveal gleaming, alloyed metal with an expertly-designed knee joint. Kvothe gaped, then came back to himself and regained his composure. This was the first time he...just...a metal leg. A fusion of man and machine. What an idea. Despite his unfamiliarity with this particular piece of engineering, his massive backlog of time spent in the university, building sympathy lamps and other complex machines, he knew a piece of high-quality craftsmanship when he saw one. He gave a low whistle of appreciation. Instead of the thousands of questions that immediately came to mind, he went with a friendly piece of language.  
         “Did you build this yourself? Or do you have a mechanic? I bet he charges more than a few talents for repairs.” This wasn’t lost on Ed, as he and his brother had been in this part of the world for more than a few days and had changed out their currency with a moneylender. Ed had a suspicion they had been cheated, but Alphonse sorted things out with a little...demonstration of what could happen if they later discovered any wrongdoing.  
         “Actually, I get a pretty heavy discount,” Ed said with a friendly grin, “and I do try to stay out of her hair, but I rather enjoy how my wife’s hair smells.” Kvothe couldn’t help but smile at that. What a lovely thing, to have a wife. To be in love.  
         “Bast?” The innkeeper’s assistant turned from where he was chatting with a guest.  
         “Yes, Reshi?” Bast stood up and walked over, with an easy gait, almost a dance.  
         “These gentlemen have just purchased two single rooms. Would you be so kind…?” He trailed off, gesturing toward the stairs. Bast was happy to oblige, his blue eyes dancing beneath his dark hair to size up the strangers. He stepped gracefully around them and extended an arm in invitation, and the three walked upstairs to the rooms.

 

         An hour or two later, and it felt like dusk had passed days ago. A few locals hung around, but most had left. The talk was quiet, and intimate in that late-night way. Kvothe was polishing bottles when Bast approached him with a whisper.  
         “Reshi...I have a feeling something isn’t right. I can’t be sure, but I think they’re back. Close.” Kvothe put down the rag and set the bottle back in its place.  
         “I would trust those feelings. Better safe than sorry, at any rate. I’ll get ready and have a look down the road.” Bast nodded and left the room. Kvothe cleared his throat.  
         “Everyone, I’m sorry to announce we’ll be closing early tonight. Bast isn’t feeling well and that means my chores are doubled.” The men nodded understandably and slowly put their possessions together, more than one of them wobbling as they stood to leave. Once all were gone, Bast returned, bearing a pair of thick smithing gloves and an apron to match. Both items had been sew up heavily, as though they had been put through a mincer. The two of them talked for a few minutes of idle things, letting the townspeople cover enough ground not to notice the innkeeper leaving the building after close. Afterwhich the partners stood up, and Kvothe revealed a long pig-iron rod from underneath the bar, slightly bent toward the end. With a parting word of safety from Bast, the man who called himself Kote left as quietly as he could manage and began walking down the road, navigating by moonlight.

 

         “The people in the Vintas are so interesting. There is so much to learn about the culture, especially these neat rings.” Alphonse held up both hands full of bronze rings he had been given by ladies as they walked through town. “What do they mean?”  
         “I don’t know, but I wanna know why I didn’t get any!” Edward sat in Al’s room, opposite his brother in a plain chair with his legs up on the corner of the bed. Alphonse sat cross-legged between the pillows and had his pack open in front of him, going through the few interesting things he’d picked up along their route. Their was a beat in their conversation, and softly below, they heard the sound of a door close, followed by silence.  
         “Closing up shop this early?” Al wondered aloud.  
         “Maybe he’s tired. They can do what they want around here, without having to worry about bad reviews in a small town.”  
         “Mm.” A moment later, Ed stood up and walked to the window.  
         “I wonder if they have any-- hey!” Al looked up from his bag. “The guy who owns this place, um, err--”  
         “Kote,” supplied Alphonse.  
         “Yeah that. He’s walking down the road, alone, with a weapon it looks like. Or maybe he’s doing some late-night gardening?” Al came to join him at the window, ignoring the joke.  
         “That’s odd. Maybe we should investigate? It can be dangerous outside this late, and he seemed kind.” Ed didn’t need telling twice. He was collected and dressed in a matter of seconds, lacing his boots on the edge of the bed. Al smoothly put on his outdoor clothes, not overly quickly or slowly. Something about not having a body for so long made him...savor it. The way he could barely hear little creaking sounds when he moved his arms sometimes--it was all so precious. Edward was about to swing open the door when Al stopped him. “It’s likely he left alone for a reason. We should be less obvious,” he said, gesturing toward the window. A few, tense moments later, the brothers were safely on the ground, with the window slightly cracked for their return. They started down the road in the direction Kote had gone.

 

          Lying under his sheets, Bast heard the Elrics talking upstairs. He didn’t do it to be rude, he just couldn’t help it. He knew they went outside after Kvothe. He sensed something capable about those two, in an otherworldly way. Arcanists? Clearly not Fae. Something. That, and they cut quite muscular figures when he led them to their rooms. Bast was certainly a lady-lover, but he was always open to suggestions. He turned onto his side and let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. He knew Reshi was strong, but now he could actually try to get some sleep tonight.

 

         Ed and Al felt like they had been walking for far longer than seemed reasonable when they glimpsed a fire in the distance, off the road and amid the trees. Moving stealthily, they crept closer. A man wrapped up tightly in heavy clothing and wielding an iron rod stood motionless in the corner of a decrepit shack, the roof totally gone and a fair portion of the walls missing. A fire burned in the center of the room. They could only assume it was Kote.  
         “It’s like...he’s waiting for something,” Al mused to Ed. Abruptly, the figure drew the rod up in front of him defensively and bent his knees. The brothers grew intensely quiet, listening for a threat, and looking around, seeing none, although they couldn’t be certain in the near-perfect dark. Moments passed, and then...scuttling. Like a hundred crabs moving over the ground. Wide-eyed, they stared at each other.  
         “Should we go to him?”  
         “I don’t want to be a distraction right now in case he gets hurt.”  
         “But he could get hurt WITHOUT us!”  
         “I don’t--” Al was cut off by the sight of an uncountable number of dark shapes swarming across the ground toward the light, coming from further down the road. They were here.

 

         Kvothe stood with his knees bent, across from the fire and the pot strung over it. He was bait. Better him than the folk living in Newarre-- they could barely wrap their minds around one of these things, dead. This many, alive...they'd be too stunned to flee, and the Scrael were torturous creatures.  
         The bastards slung themselves forward over the earth, using a multitude of blurry, razor-sharp legs to dig their footholds. They looked like wide, smooth stones, a bit smaller than a wagon wheel and a handspan in height. No eyes or mouth to see or speak of. Swarming the shack, they plunged. Kvothe ducked, dodged, and swatted at them with the iron bar, quickly forced from the shack to regroup among the thick trees. There were so many. He stabbed one and swung it, cracking a few more. When the iron touched the spidery creatures, it was accompanied by a hissing, burning sound and smell. He had chose iron for a reason. The townsfolk thought them demons, but Kvothe knew better.  
         He walked slowly backward, cursing as he was being pushed away from the firelight, and his energy was waning faster than he expected. In a burst of desperation, he leaped over a small wave of them and sprinted toward the light. A root caught his foot and he tripped, spinning his body into the earth and sending his iron rod sliding into the dirt.  
         “Stay there brother!” A voice called out, vaguely familiar. Who was that?  
         He tried to lunge forward from his prone position and felt searing pain in his right calf. A Scrael buried several of it's horrible legs all the way through the muscle and into the ground on the other side. It used his leg as a ladder with each step sinking into his flesh. He realized he'd been screaming. More rushed toward him as this one raised its legs over the base of his spine--  
         CLAP. RIIING.  
         A bell?  
         The earth erupted. Taborlin the Great himself stood what must have been 30 feet away in the direction of the road, legs apart and hands together in what looked like meditation or prayer, but his shining, golden eyes bored into Kvothe. No, below him.  
         A blue light flashed and a massive fist the size of a horse emerged from the ground beside Kvothe with a great crunching, writhing sound, sweeping up the Scraeling like a loose boot of cloth and crushing it like a fresh egg. The hand and following arm, seemingly made of the Earth itself, twisted and drove itself through the oncoming Scrael and crushed multitudes in a single swoop before stopping in it's tracks, a frozen and terrifying statue.  
         Another clap, that strange ringing sound, and a flash of blue light brought a second arm bursting from the ground on the other side of Kvothe, curling up and around him like a snake protecting its eggs, until the hand reached the apex of the spiral and turned palm-first toward the last wave of creatures, sealing the tomb, fingers outstretched like the headdress of a god without a face.  
         In the darkness, Kvothe could only hear massive crunching sounds and the earth shuddering as he assumed the Scrael were being crushed by Taborlin. He didn't necessarily think it was the mythical arcanist, but it was the only person he could imagine having such power. After a short time, silence reigned again. He heard a clap and ring, and his arm-cage withdrew slightly. He got to his knees and leaned against it. It felt like metal.  
         The figure approached him.  
         “Let me see your leg.” Too stunned to do other than what he was told, he shifted. In the darkness the man was mysterious, but now that he was face-to-face with his rescuer, he recognized him as the young man from the Waystone who called himself Alphonse. The golden-haired man was joined by his brother Edward as he knelt down, and began to draw in the dirt around Kvothe’s leg. Sygaldry? Why would--no, a pentagram. Tehlu’s Angels, this powerful of an arcanist was about to use children’s tales to try to--  
         Suddenly, Alphonse pressed his hands to the ground and a blue light shone from the lines of the pentagram, now with five throwing knives pinned to each vertex. The light sparked and thrashed, as Kvothe felt an incredible sensation in his leg. It was--Tehlu crush us. The wounds were closing up. This wasn’t sympathy. There was no link here. What in God’s name was this?  
         The golden-haired man stood up. Kvothe touched his leg, feeling it with his fingers and flexing it. Absolutely no pain. It was perfectly healed. He stood up as well and took a moment to collect his thoughts.  
         “Thank you. I...can we talk about this, first thing tomorrow? Also, don’t worry about paying for your rooms. That’s…” He fell silent, lost in thought. He was so tired, only his raw curiosity kept him upright. The brothers could sense this, and they helped him back to the Inn.

 

         Bast sat by the bar, twitching his fingers nervously as the three men walked in. A smile lept to his face.  
         “Reshi! You’re not hurt!”  
         “Yes well, yes...indeed Bast. I suppose I’ll be needing some rest however, and morning is not far away. Fetch these two anything they desire, free of charge. Goodnight.” The man who called himself Kote walked away and disappeared to his quarters. Alphonse asked for a glass of water, and Edward got another Apple Cider, and the brother retired to their rooms as well. The Waystone Inn was silent once more.


End file.
